


closure

by kjack89



Series: long story short [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Relationship Discussions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29025729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kjack89/pseuds/kjack89
Summary: I don't want your closure| Enjolras tries to stop Grantaire before he leaves at the train station.
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: long story short [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2103501
Comments: 11
Kudos: 50





	closure

**Author's Note:**

> I've sketched out a part 4 and 5 of this series, so...there will likely be more.
> 
> Usual disclaimer. Please be kind and tip your fanfic writers in the form of comments and/or kudos!

Enjolras couldn’t sleep. **  
**

He lay in his childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom, surrounded by the graveyard of his childhood accomplishments. Why his parents had insisted on holding onto every trophy, medal and certificate he’d ever received, he’d never understand. His first grade perfect attendance certificate just seemed like some kind of cruel mockery in light of more recent failures thrown into sharp relief over this holiday weekend.

He sighed and shifted in bed, knowing damn well that the reason he couldn’t sleep had precious little to do with the participation medal he’d gotten for park district soccer in the third grade, and far more to do with the discussion he’d had with Grantaire.

With the reality that nothing in Enjolras’s life was what he had envisioned a decade past, when he and Grantaire had lain in this very same bed, dreaming of a future that had never come to pass.

And with the knowledge that the only reason it hadn’t was because of him.

Groaning, Enjolras flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, as if the down filling could drown out the echoes of his conversation with Grantaire earlier that evening, or else the awful realization that he’d completely failed at being a remotely good boyfriend to the only man he’d ever really loved. But the pillow held no such relief, just dampening the ambient noise and leaving Enjolras more alone with his thoughts than ever.

He was tempted to stay that way, as it seemed a fitting punishment to lie there and obsess over everything that had gone wrong over the past decade.

Still, while brooding was good for keeping him up all hours of the night, Enjolras had never really been one for moping, always preferring action to the alternative, and even though it would be hours yet before the sun crept over the horizon, he couldn’t help but feel like he needed to get up and do something.

He rolled over and grabbed his phone, figuring he might as well doomscroll through Twitter just to give his fingers something to do. But then he paused, and almost without knowing what he was doing, he clicked on Google instead of Twitter, and a moment later, he had the Amtrak website pulled up.

Grantaire had said that he had an early train to catch. A quick scan through the departures listed on the Amtrak website told Enjolras that the earliest train was set to depart at 4:30am, which was… Even though the time was listed on the phone screen he had been squinting at, Enjolras still rolled over in bed to check the clock on his nightstand, just to be sure. 

Its glowing orange numbers told him that it was 4:03am, and Enjolras managed a small, sharp smile.

Just enough time to get to the train station.

* * *

Enjolras didn’t exactly have a plan in mind for what he was going to say to Grantaire when he found him at the train station, but thankfully, he was saved by the fact that Grantaire did not show up for the 4:30 train. Or the 5:05, the 5:26 express, the 5:50 flyer, or the 6:30 train. 

But five trains and three cups of coffee were still not enough, since the moment Enjolras saw Grantaire in the train station, a few minutes after 7, any words he might’ve half-strewn together in his mind fled, leaving him tongue-tied as Grantaire spotted him, one dark eyebrow arching. “Please tell me I don’t need to get a restraining order,” Grantaire said as he approached, but with enough of a teasing edge to his voice that Enjolras relaxed, just slightly.

“I promise this is the end of any incidental stalking,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed.

“Well, that is somewhat reassuring,” he said, setting his duffel bag down on a nearby bench and stretching. “But I still have a bad feeling about why you’re here at ass o’clock in the morning.”

Enjolras snorted. “Ass o’clock in the morning was when the first train left at 4:30,” he said before yawning so widely that his jaw audibly cracked, and Grantaire raised both eyebrows.

“Judging by the fact that you look like you haven’t slept, I’ll assume that means you were here at 4:30?”

Enjolras shrugged, suddenly feeling acutely embarrassed by that decision. “I, uh, I didn’t know which train you were taking,” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

A smile twitched at the corners of Grantaire’s mouth. “I suppose it’s my fault for not specifying how early my early train was,” he mused, sitting down on the bench next to his bag.

Frowning slightly, Enjolras sat as well. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not entirely surprised to see you here,” Grantaire said. “And, since I figured you were going to show up, I probably should have been a little more specific about when my train was leaving.”

Enjolras opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. “You figured I was going to show up?” he asked, slightly higher-pitched than he intended, and Grantaire had the audacity to not look even remotely abashed. “How? I didn’t even decide to come until this morning.”

Grantaire shrugged. “You never did like to let arguments go without finishing them,” he said simply.

Enjolras shook his head but didn’t bother trying to deny it. Instead, he changed tacks. “I wasn’t aware that we were having an argument.”

“Hasn’t it always been an argument between us?” Grantaire asked, a little wistfully. Enjolras didn’t have a response to that, but thankfully, the question seemed more rhetorical than anything, and after a moment, Grantaire shook his head as if clearing his thoughts before glancing back at Enjolras. “So,” he said, looking at Enjolras expectantly.

Enjolras frowned. “So what?”

“So, since you’ve been here for a few hours now, how about you get to whatever point you’re so desperate to make?” 

Enjolras took a deep breath. “I just…” he started, feeling tongue-tied again, in the way that only Grantaire had ever been able to make him. “Well, like you said, I don’t think we really finished things yesterday, argument or otherwise.”

Grantaire nodded slowly. “So you have more you want to say?” he asked mildly, picking at invisible lint on his jeans.

“No.”

Grantaire looked up, startled. “No?” he repeated.

Enjolras shook his head. “No,” he said again. “I don’t think it’s me who has more that I need to say. I think you do.”

Grantaire started to speak but stopped, looking away, his expression unreadable. “Don’t you think if I had more to say, I would’ve taken the time to say it last night?” he asked finally. 

“No,” Enjolras said. “Because I think that you thought I wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say. But I am.”

He said it as defiantly as he was able, but Grantaire just laughed, a dry, humorless laugh. “Sure, you’re ready to hear it,” Grantaire scoffed. “And I’m ready to be king of France, but alas—”

“I’m serious,” Enjolras insisted.

Grantaire met his eyes and Enjolras was surprised to see something dark in his expression. “So am I,” Grantaire said, his voice low. “I don’t know what you think this is about—”

“It’s about the fact that when I miss who I was when I was with you.”

Grantaire stared at him. “What?”

Enjolras could feel himself flush, and ducked his head before barrelling forward. “When you and I were together were...I don’t want to say they were the best years of my life, because it was high school, and I never wanted to be that person. But you always made me better, made me strive to _be_ better. And I just thought…” He trailed off. “I don’t know. But us meeting like this...I don’t think this is a coincidence.”

“Since when have you believed in fate?” Grantaire asked softly.

Enjolras made a face. “I don’t know if I’d go so far as to call it fate, but seeing you again – I want to try to be that again. And then maybe…” He trailed off and took a deep breath before telling Grantaire, as honest as he had ever been, “Then maybe we could try again. But better this time.”

Grantaire barked what could charitably called a laugh, scrubbing a hand across his mouth. “Are you serious?” he asked, incredulous. “You want to get back to the person who you were when we were together?”

“Well, maybe not quite like that—”

“Enjolras, I hated who I was when we were dating.” Enjolras froze, staring at him. “The thought of going back to that…”

“Not exactly back to it,” Enjolras said quickly. “Better than what we were—”

“No.”

“No what?” Enjolras asked, feeling like his stomach had dropped to somewhere around his knees.

“No, we can’t go back to that,” Grantaire said loudly, and Enjolras glanced over his shoulder, afraid that someone would overhear. But it was still just the two of them alone in the train station. “I don’t want that. I’m not that person anymore, and whatever you want to call how you used to feel about the person I used to be, you sure as shit wouldn’t feel it for the person I am now.”

Enjolras shook his head, feeling like Grantaire was missing his point. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he started, but Grantaire cut him off.

“Let me rephrase what I was trying to say earlier,” he said, his tone clipped. “I don’t know what you think this is about for me. I get what this is about for you. But just like our entire relationship, if you even want to call it that, that has nothing to do with me.” 

“Grantaire—”

“I can’t give you closure, Enjolras, if that’s what you’re looking for, or forgiveness, or whatever. Mainly because you’ve never needed it, but also because you’ve never asked. Not really, and certainly not now.” Grantaire shook his head. “I can’t fix this. I can’t fix you.”

Enjolras swallowed. “I’m not asking you to,” he said, his voice low.

“Aren’t you?” 

Grantaire didn’t wait for an answer, standing up and grabbing his duffel bag, slinging it over his shoulder as he told Enjolras, “I spent the last ten years of my life figuring out who I was without you and building a life for myself that didn’t involve you, and I’m not going to throw it all away just because you’re not happy with the life you’ve built for yourself.”

Enjolras hurried to stand as well. “That’s not—”

“Yeah, it is.” Grantaire glanced over his shoulder at the train station clock before looking back at Enjolras, something so sad in his expression that Enjolras felt the breath catch in his throat. “I love you, Enjolras – or at least, there’s a part of me that will always love a part of you. But I’m not who I was ten years ago, and you’re not who I fell in love with either. And I’m not saying that I’m disappointed in who you’ve become, or telling you that you need to change, or whatever, because I know better than anyone that that’s not how this works.” He paused, searching Enjolras’s expression for a long moment before continuing, “I am in love with a version of you that has lived in my head for ten years, and I don’t want closure on that. But you’re not him. And I don’t think you’re the version of you that’s been living in your head for the last ten years, either. But it’s up to you to figure out who that is and if that’s who you actually want to be.” 

“Then give me a chance to do so,” Enjolras said, the words coming out as more of a plea than he intended.

“I am,” Grantaire said, taking a step backwards. “I just can’t be a part of it.” He glanced over his shoulder again, and when he looked back at Enjolras, his expression was resigned. “And now I have to go.”

“Wait,” Enjolras said, and Grantaire paused, halfway through turning around to walk away. “Where does that leave us?”

Grantaire didn’t turn back. “There is no us, Enjolras. I don’t know that there ever was.” He squared his shoulders and Enjolras was certain that he was going to walk away and leave it at that, but after a moment that felt more like a century, Grantaire looked back at him. “Take care of yourself, Enjolras,” he said quietly. “And, again...you know how to get in touch. If you want to.” 

With that, he headed toward the waiting train, and Enjolras watched Grantaire walk away for the third time in as many days.

He stayed that way for a long time, long after the train had pulled out of the station, carrying Grantaire and the few other sleepy passengers off to their destinations. Eventually, the chill roused him when nothing else would, and Enjolras reached out automatically to wipe his cheeks roughly with the heel of his palm.

Then it was his turn to walk away, trudging out of the train station and back to the car he had borrowed from his parents, his mind full of arguments he had wanted to make but now never could, his heart as numb as his fingers. 

It was by sheer happenstance alone that on his way, he happened to glance at the departures board, looking automatically at the train that Grantaire had taken. 7:26 EXPRESS, the board told him, along with a note that it was still boarding, which clearly was an error.

But what made him stop in his tracks was when he saw the destination station listed.

It was his city.

Which meant...there was really only one explanation, and Enjolras reached out automatically to steady himself.

Grantaire lived in the same city as him.

All this time, he had just assumed that Grantaire lived hours away, and for all Enjolras knew, he lived only a few miles away, or less.

For what felt like the first time in days, Enjolras felt just a little bit like his old self as he stared at the departures board, determination overpowering everything else he had been feeling.

Maybe this wasn’t an ending, after all.

Maybe this was just the beginning.


End file.
